


all things

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: "Stay with me." and "Choose me."





	all things

You choose me, you’re in it for life. That’s what he hears when she slips in to his bed. It’s a challenge and a swell of adrenaline lifts the hairs on his neck and arms. And he’s already turning over the memories in his mind about whether he chose her or she chose him or fate just threw them together in a Herculean trial.

“Are you sure?” He can’t even be certain that he said it but she whispers yes and blood burns under his skin. He knows there’s a medical term for what’s happening here, something to do with endorphins and neurochemicals flooding his system. But breaking it down, dissecting it, makes no more sense than just riding the wave of impossibility.

She’s smooth to his rough and he shudders as he kisses her for the longest time. At the slightest touch of her breasts to his chest, he groans and she rolls the muscles across his shoulders between her fingers, massaging away this agony of ecstasy. She kisses his forehead, she presses her hand into the small of his back, mimicking his actions and he falls into her.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she says, “but now seems right.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” He has to say it enough to make sure it’s real.

Her leg wraps over his hips and he feels the wetness of her against his thigh. Now definitely seems right. When she moves over him, slips down, surrounding him, he knows he is lost to her thrall. That destiny is victor. That the future is written. She moves and he moves with her. It’s a slow and gentle thing, their dance. It’s here I am, it’s this is me, it’s love me, love me, love me, please.

“Is this okay?” He has to ask because a sudden rush of insecurity forces his eyes open.

She smiles and the way the light catches her face is a magical antidote to his self-doubt. He lifts his hips higher and she responds with a long moan that sparks a thousand fires over his body. This is right. This is good. This is what life should be about. Her orgasm is quiet, contained. An implosion. Contained. Somewhere in that masculine part of his brain he determines a new quest for himself: make her come loudly and freely. But that’s a challenge for another day. His own release follows and he clutches at the swell of her ass with each thrust.

She lies against his side, pressed in. They fit. His arm around her shoulders, playing with the skin there. She whimpers in her sleep and he watches shadows play across the ceiling unable to contemplate closing his eyes. Eventually, she gets up.

He wants to say, “stay with me” but it’s too much to ask. He closes his eyes as she closes the door to the bathroom. The plumbing groans to life and lulls him.

It’s enough for now, he thinks. Enough and too much. It’s all things.


End file.
